


Fall to Madness

by Shinzu



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-14
Updated: 2016-06-14
Packaged: 2018-07-15 03:40:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7205705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shinzu/pseuds/Shinzu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not everyone could say they had become what is essentially a god. But he could, and the fall to madness wasn't going to be an easy or gentle ride.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fall to Madness

**Author's Note:**

> A story I've been thinking about since I complete the Shivering Isles expansion about a year ago. I've been working on this character for some time and though I'm still not pleased with him, I thought it'd be best to throw this out and get some feedback! It's based on the first Oblivion character I made, a dunmer named Jupiter, and how I ended up in the Shivering Isles before I completed the game.

“We're never going to see each other again.”

“I know, but I fulfilled my purpose. I have to, it's the gods' will.”

“Maybe—maybe we will see each other again, Martin. Goodbye. And thank you.”

“No. Thank you. Without you we wouldn't have been able to stop this. Goodbye, Jupiter.”

His golden cat-like eyes snapped open, fading to an empty pure snowy white as they adjusted to the darkness of the room. His mouth tasted terrible and dry—like he hadn't had water for some time, and ate something bad for dinner the night prior. And his body, gods, with hands clammy and sweat beading up on his forehead, and despite the heavy quilts on his bed, shook with a chill that rattled his bones and all the way down to the very core.

It shouldn't be cold. If anything, it should be humid, because that's how he willed it, and this plane was quite akin to a swamp, or a marsh. And it should be hot. Warm, at least. That's how it goes, right? But he still shook and as he looked around, it dawned on him there was no fire in the room, and the lovely crystals by the entrance to his room didn't glow and float as he remembered they did. It was like the very life of the room had been sucked out.

Uncertain, Jupiter sat up, running a hand through long white hair and putting his other against his forehead. Was this a fever? Why would he, of all people, have a fever? Could he even get one? But all questions aside, he didn't think he would be sleeping for the rest of the night. He tried to get out of bed, somehow slipping on his sheets and falling with a thump loud enough on the rug below to summon his chamberlain to the entrance of the room.

Jupiter scrambled for the staff he always had at his side, finding it on his nightstand, and used it to to haul himself up. He pressed his other hand against his bed, digging his fingers into the bedsheets and mattress. The eye in the center looked at him, but he purposely ignored it, not even looking at it in the corner of his eye.

“Does something trouble you, my lord?”

“Of—of course, when /aren't/ I troubled, Haskill?” Jupiter snapped. No reaction came from Haskill, who stood with his hands behind his back. In the entire week he had been ruler of this realm, he had not seen Haskill sleep once. He had never seen the man relax even once. Every word out of his mouth sounded annoyed and maybe spiteful—but that had been his tone of voice ever since their first encounter back in Passwall.

Jupiter snorted and waved his hand, taking a particular notice in the darkness outside of his room, where candles usually shined all night. “Relax!” Haskill didn't move, but his shoulders drooped and his hard expression softened. “That's annoying, you know, looking at you always so tense. What are you tense about?”

Haskill pulled at his long red collar, cleared his throat, and replaced his hands behind his back. He pursed his lips in thought. “The people feel there is something wrong. Everyone's uneasy.”

“Nothing's wrong. The Greymarch has been over for a week.” Jupiter swung his staff haphazardly as he gestured around, and then threw it onto his bed while he marched over to his wardrobe and started to pick out clothes to wear. There were some uninteresting things consisting mostly of plain cotton tunics and trousers, but also a random assortment of clothes he had brought along with him or earned here in the Isles, and some outfits that had been left from his predecessor. He was picking out a plain gray shirt when Haskill finally gave an explanation that stopped him in his tracks.

Haskill took a step toward Jupiter. “A new duke or duchess has not yet been chosen for either houses, the reconstruction is slow, and not too long ago...”

His heart fell, and he didn't hear what Haskill was saying as his mind wandered off. His hands began to shake as he pulled the tunic over his head and tied his hair back in a ponytail. It didn't look good that way, but he preferred it to having it stick to his face with sweat that still covered his forehead.

Vivid images of facing the Daedric Prince of Order filled his mind. He remembered being stared down, looking into the cold eyes of a tall steel-clad warrior who stared back at him with eyes colder than snow and yet so full of rage it felt like fire. They were not the eyes of the madman who had left them moments prior to that meeting. They were not the eyes of someone who was ready to fail their mission.

He had expected to die. It should have been impossible for him to succeed, but Sheogorath had counted on him.

“This unease is because of the Greymarch, in the end, is it not?”

Jupiter swallowed, trying to ignore that unbearable taste in his mouth. “I should have failed, Haskill. I'm not a fighter. I'm not...a god.”

“But you are now, sir.”

“This is fucking insane!”

“Of course it is. That is your sphere, isn't it? You're struggling to understand. You will in due time, sir, I promise.”

“Mine!” Jupiter scoffed, pulling on some trousers and a pair of boots. It wasn't what he was used to, having come to the plane clad in armor he'd picked up off some random warriors along the way. “Y-you know, Haskill? I had a dream. My friend, Martin. He's was dying. Shattered the amulet that kept fires alight and the planes of Oblivion from ever connecting to Nirn...”

He shook so much. This was unlike him. 

He let out a breath and stood up. “Haskill, does everyone doubt me?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“I doubt myself.” Jupiter started out of the room, making sure to grab his staff first. With his new position, his new found powers, he wasn't sure he still even needed it. But it helped calm his nerves because it had helped him so much before and so it was always with him. 

Haskill stepped to the side as Jupiter came through and looked around the corridor with a cold look on his blue dunmeri face. “Why are all of the lights out?” He couldn't see any of the tapestries nor could he see down either of the halls that led to the house of Mania and house of Dimentia. A coldness settled on his shoulders. “Haskill?”

“They went out on their own, right after I heard your scream about half an hour ago. Perhaps something to eat could calm your nerves?”

No, he was thinking, but after another moment's thought, he decided that maybe it would be the best, and thanked Haskill. He enjoyed food, and the palace of New Sheoth provided some very interesting choices. Though not quite interested in the greenmoat and felldew and the like, he was a fan of everything else, especially their sweets. It wasn't something he had much as a child, and now, with the privilege to have as much as he wanted, he wasn't going to pass it up.

Haskill left to relight some of the candles and fires within the palace. A handful of Dark Seducers and Golden Saints greeted him on his way through the halls, thanking him for this and that. He hadn't been here more than a month, probably, and yet these ladies, the people, the realm, and the walls of this palace already felt more like home than Morrowind's swamps and cool dark cities. It felt more like home than the streets of the Imperial City, of which he had spent a handful of years running around in before getting captured by the guards for stealing some bread.

Well, a lot of bread, actually.

Maybe an entire cart full?

Jupiter stared at the ground as he made his way to the dining room and sat down at any random seat. Being that it was night time, probably three or four AM, there was no one else around except the night guards. Haskill shuffled in a few minutes later to relight the candles in the room and on the table, brightening it up with a soft and warm glow he had been welcomed to on the first day he had entered the realm.

Deep down, he wished that Sheogorath was still there.

Like a child going to lessons for the first time, and missing their parent. Or, better yet, a friend trying to move on after their friend's death.

Tears pricked at his eyes. He didn't feel like touching the sweets left out on the table just yet. “Haskill?”

“Yes?”

“What if I can't fucking do this?”

“You will grow into the role.”

“What if I can't?”

“You will, I know you will.” Haskill put aside the matches he used to light the candles and sat down across the table from where Jupiter sat. “He knew that you could do it, despite being a poor little man who had run away from home and stolen bread your whole life. I think, deep down, you know too.”

In some weird way, Haskill was right. But wasn't he always? He process of taking up the mantle to become the Madgod in his time of need (or maybe annoyance, because he didn't think anyone would be content with themselves destroying everything every so often), Jupiter was told he'd gain some of his memories. His feelings. In a way, it would be like he had never left. In the same way, it would be like having a whole new prince.

Jupiter frowned and picked at a sweet roll, tearing it apart down the middle so that the filling spilled out onto his plate. Yes. The first feeling he had gotten when the staff was complete was that the god had total and utter faith in him. 

A poor dunmer who stole bread, had more family than he could remember, and used to get the snot beat out of him as a child. 

The god was fucking insane. And it was hilarious, really, with his entire childhood having revolved around being good and kind. So that the Four Corners of the House of Troubles couldn't get him and play with his mind and well being. And now he was the very thing that the dunmer would punish by death if worshiped. How many innocent people was he going to indirectly kill?

He choked. “Haskill, you know I'm going to have to return to the mortal plane to help Martin stop Dagon.”

“I know, my lord.” Haskill let out a deep sigh, folding his hands on the table. “I can, for a short time, keep this plane under wraps. I have done it before countless and can do it again. Before you go, however, I suggest that you get some things in order. The furthering of the rebuilding, new dukes or duchesses, and becoming more attuned to the realm itself. Just a few more days, I recommend, for stepping back into the mortal realm could...be a bit hard, so soon.”

“You know, you're not as much of a dick as I thought you were.”

Haskill raised an eyebrow. “I will take that as a compliment.”

“Of course it is! I've dealt with many jerks in my life, Haskill, and I thought you were just the same. You don't seem quite like anyone else in the realm, though.”

“That...will be a story for another time. You should get some more rest, or take a walk and then a nap before dawn. There are many things to discuss in the morning.”

“Of course. And—Haskill, do you sleep?”

“Yes. I will see you in the morning, Sheogorath.”

“No, don't call me that. I'm not—I'm not. No.” Jupiter shook his head and scooted out his chair. Without another word, he took his half eaten sweet roll with him back to bed and sat down at the edge of it for a little while, thinking, trying to understand his feelings.

How long would it take him to succumb to the madness? Surely it should have already overtaken him.

But in all fairness, not many sane people would willingly run in to fight a god.


End file.
